Charlotte believed she had heard a voice and had not imagined it. The story about this island had convinced her even more. But she hadn’t told a soul and didn’t think she ever would.
“There you are. Your hair is finished, tangle free,” Claire announced. She smoothed out one last piece then set the comb on the dresser top.
Charlotte ran her fingers through the strands. She couldn’t believe it. All the knots were gone, and a light scent of lavender oil lingered. “Thank you so much. This is perfect.”
“Oh, it was nothing at all. I’m happy to help,” Claire replied.
“I wouldn’t call it nothing.” Charlotte straightened the items on the dresser top, looking away from Claire. “If only the knots in the rest of my life could be smoothed out so easily.”
Her cell phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her robe pocket and quickly checked the screen. It was just Meredith, checking to see how Charlotte felt. Charlotte felt her heart sink again. Colin wouldn’t answer her messages. She had to give up hoping, she told herself.
Claire stood watching her. “The tangles in your life … Oh, that’s not so different, dear. You still need the same ingredients: Go slowly. Have patience. Believe you can figure it out, bit by bit. Quiet your soul and listen,” she added. “You may hear the answers to your questions. It might be easier than you think.”
Charlotte reached out and gripped Claire’s hand a moment, then let go. “Thank you, Claire. I have a few more days in this place. Maybe the angels will help me.” She tried for a light tone, as if she were teasing. But she could tell from Claire’s clear, steady gaze that Claire saw through that and knew Charlotte was perfectly serious.
“Perhaps they will. Sometimes we just have to open ourselves to God’s love.” Claire stood by the door and smiled. “Get a good night’s sleep. That will help you as much as anything. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she added as she left the room.
DESPITE her long nap, Charlotte fell asleep quickly while studying her lines for the next day’s scenes. She woke to the sound of the phone and grabbed it off the night table. It was still early, a few minutes before seven. She wondered who would be calling and saw her sister’s name on the screen.
“Lily? What is it?” She sat bolt upright in bed, feeling alarmed. “Is everyone all right? Is Mom okay?”
“We’re all fine, Charlotte. But something happened last night. I wanted to call you, but it got too late …”
Charlotte took a deep breath and braced herself. She didn’t want to panic. That wouldn’t do anyone any good. “Slow down, honey. Just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
“I was with Mom at the movies, the one at the mall. We were just coming out and walking to the car and these two guys stopped us. One pulled out a little video camera and the other started asking us a million questions. Asking Mom questions mostly, about our family.”
Charlotte sighed and pressed her hand to her chest. “Is that all, Lily? You scared me. I thought you and Mom were robbed or something.”
“It was almost as bad, Charlotte. It wasn’t just the stuff about you that everyone knows. I think these people know about … about Wayne.” Lily said the name of their stepfather as if it were some foul-tasting potion she wanted to spit out. “And they want Mom to tell them more, to confirm it so they don’t get in trouble when they put it on the Web.”
Charlotte took a deep, steadying breath. “Did she talk to them at all?”
“More than I wanted her to. There were two of them. They sort of overwhelmed her. I finally got her in the car and drove away … But I’m afraid,” Lily admitted. “I’m afraid she said too much, and I’m afraid that they’ll come back. Oh, Charlotte, I’m so sorry …”
Being the oldest at home now, Lily felt responsible. But it wasn’t right. She shouldn’t have this weighing on her shoulders. It’s enough that I have to drag around this burden, Charlotte thought.
“Please don’t cry, Lily. It isn’t your fault, none of it. It’s not Mom’s either,” she added quickly. “Did you get a name or a card? Did they say what magazine or show they were from?”
“Something called Hollywood Buzz, I think. It’s a TV show,” Lily added.
“I know that one,” Charlotte replied. It was a show that specialized in low-down, sensational stories like actors with addiction problems or troubled marriages.
Charlotte glanced at the clock again. “It’s too early to call Renee,” she said, naming her publicist. “But I’ll send her an e-mail right away and ask her to call so we can figure this out. She’ll know what to do and how to get rid of them, Lily. Don’t worry. In the meantime, just stick close to the house and be very careful if you go outside. Keep Mom close, too,” she added.
“I will, Charlotte. Is the movie going all right?”
“Better than I expected,” Charlotte answered. The film was going well. It was just other parts of her life that were messed up. “We’ll be done here in a few days and need a little time in L.A. After that, I’ll come home and visit you,” she promised. “I’m sorry you were frightened, honey.”
“I’m all right,” Lily replied, sounding her usual self again. “Take care of yourself, Charlie. We miss you.”
“I miss you, too. I’ll call you tonight after I speak to Renee,” she added. “And don’t worry.”
Her sister said good-bye, and Charlotte ended the call. Then she sent an e-mail to her publicist, alerting her to the situation. Did these reporters really have information about her past? Or were they just digging around?
Sooner or later, it would happen, Charlotte knew. If not this time, then the next. Or the one after that. Somebody would find out that the lovely, greeting-card picture of her childhood and family life was a big fat lie. Her mother had pressed charges against her stepfather more than once. There were police reports and photographs of her mother’s bruised and battered face and body. That was the real family photo album. All of it on public record.
Was this going to be her moment of truth, her moment of shame? For surely someone would ask her how—when her younger siblings and mother had been trapped, at the mercy of a man who ended every night with shouting and the sound of breaking glass—she managed to get out, to run away to California to save her own skin. How she’d managed to totally abandon them.
A sharp knock on the door snapped her to attention. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Meredith. I just wanted to make sure you were awake. We have to be at the set early today.”
“Yes, I’m up. I’m going into the shower. I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”
Back to business. The schedule was tight today and would only get tighter. That was the one thing that kept her going at times, Charlotte realized. She was carried along by the wave of her commitments, no matter what else was happening.
A short time later, Charlotte grabbed her big black tote that was stuffed with her script, iPad, knitting, and other necessities for the day, and started down the stairs.
She wasn’t very hungry but wanted to grab a cup of coffee before her car arrived. She had just turned at the landing when she heard voices down in the foyer, near the front door. Liza was talking with a man. Charlotte thought at first that it was her driver. Then she realized it was a reporter, and Liza was doing her best to fend him off.
“Yes, you’ve already told me that. But Ms. Miller is not giving any interviews while she’s staying here. You need to leave. Immediately,” Liza said in a stern tone. “If you give me your card, I’ll pass it on to her.”
“But this is urgent. This is her chance to have her say, to confirm or deny our information. We’re going to put it out there either way.”
Charlotte stood stone-still on the landing. She felt her heart racing in her chest. She could barely breathe.
They had found her. Here. She took a few steps back so she couldn’t be seen from the lower level.
“Well, either way, you have to go,” Liza insisted in an even stronger tone. “I can call the police,” she added
. “This is private property …”
Charlotte didn’t wait to hear more. She doubted there were any police officers out on the island, and by the time one came from the town …
She just had to get away from this place. She had to hide somewhere.
She ran back up to the second floor then all the way down the long hall, stopping only to stash her tote beneath a narrow table in the hall. She couldn’t afford to be slowed down by anything now. She quickly found the back stairway that led down to the kitchen. The wooden steps were narrow and bare. She moved quietly, knowing the smallest sound could give her away.
When she reached the kitchen, she opened the door a crack and peeked inside. Tantalizing smells greeted her—coffee, bacon, a buttery, cinnamon smell, and citrus, all blended into one. Charlotte longed for some hot coffee and a bite to eat but didn’t dare delay. The room was empty. She quickly walked to the back door, opened it quietly, and let herself out.
Charlotte wished she could sneak a bicycle out of the barn or even borrow a car. But that was too risky. She had been lucky to sneak out of the inn without being spotted.
A clever mouse has many holes. That had been a line in a little mystery drama she played in once. She had never forgotten it.
After slipping out the back door, she moved carefully around the building, avoiding windows where she could be spotted. She made her way across Liza’s property to the gate in the fence that led to the goat farm. Then she crept across the meadow, never turning her head to look back.
She practically held her breath the whole way, sure she would be seen. But miraculously, no one came after her.
At the goat farm, she turned down toward the main road, then kept walking, looking straight ahead. When she heard a car or truck coming, she ran to the side and hid behind a tree or in the brush. There wasn’t much traffic on the island since it was still early on Sunday morning.
Charlotte had no idea of where to go. Her first thought was to leave the island. But it was a very long walk into town, and she felt wary of that route. It was the only way on or off the island by car, and the reporters probably figured she would head for the mainland right away. It might be smarter to stay. She had only brought what was in her pockets: her phone, a wad of bills—she had no idea how much—and one credit card. Nothing else. Not even the picture ID that she would need to board a plane. She’d been in such a state, she barely knew what she was doing.
All she knew was that she had to hide right now. Hide and think this out: What was the right thing to do?
She loved being an actress. She loved making movies and felt so grateful for her success. But it was so hard to be a celebrity, to be followed every minute and hounded by reporters. She knew she should be used to it by now, but sometimes it got to her. Even if she didn’t have anything to hide, it was still a difficult way to live. She wished she could be free, be her true self and not just the airbrushed picture the public loved so much.
Something had to give. Her life had to change. She had to change. She had felt it from almost the first moment she set foot in this place. And she felt it still, an intangible, invisible force. But it was definitely there, like the steady wind blowing off the ocean, cooling her skin and lifting her hair as she quickly walked along.
Without realizing where she was headed, Charlotte found herself at the opening in the brush where a path from the road led down to the dock, where Colin sometimes kept his boat. The same place where she waited for him to meet her on Friday afternoon for their day alone together.
That seemed so long ago now, those dashed hopes still stinging. She heard a car coming on the road, and jumped into the brush, hiding herself. When the car passed, she decided to walk down to the dock. Colin might be there. Maybe he would put aside his hurt feelings and help her.
Or maybe she could pay someone to give her a ride to Cape Light harbor or even Newburyport. Maybe she could find a boat to borrow and sail away. The possibility cheered her.
The dock was empty, as it had been the night before. But this time, Charlotte saw Colin’s boat moored out on the water. She stood at the end of the dock, her hand shielding her eyes, waiting to see if he was onboard.
The boat looked empty, the cabin and cockpit sealed up. It was the perfect place to hide, she realized, and it wouldn’t be hard to get aboard.
She pulled a light dinghy from the rack on the beach, as she had seen him do, put two oars inside, then pushed out into the water and scrambled aboard. She wasn’t used to the maneuver and nearly tipped the small craft over but soon got her balance. She took a seat at one end then started rowing. It was hard work but she was in good shape and reached Colin’s boat in a few minutes.
She steered the dinghy alongside the fishing boat and slowly stood up. Then she grabbed on to the rope ladder and pulled herself over the edge of the boat, falling on the deck with a thud.
If there was anyone in the cabin, they surely would have heard her landing and come out, she thought. But no one did.
She had remembered to keep hold of the line from the rowboat and now tied it to the end of the large craft.
Now what, she wondered. She walked over to the cabin door and opened it easily. It wasn’t locked. Colin didn’t have anything of value onboard. She already knew that. She envied someone who lived this way, without a care or fear, without even locking doors.
She felt a pang of conscience, realizing that she was trespassing on private property and not a guest this time. But she just needed a place to hide out for a while and gather her thoughts. Colin wouldn’t mind that, would he? She hoped not. Maybe he would never even find out.
Charlotte looked out at the blue water and the blue dome of the sky. What a beautiful day, she thought. It reminded her so much of the afternoon she spent with Colin.
That made her sad again. She glanced at her watch and realized that by now everyone would know that she had left the inn. She had cleverly silenced her cell phone before sneaking out, so that an incoming message wouldn’t give her away. Now she looked at the list of missed calls and text messages. She felt bad about causing everyone worry and concern, but she just couldn’t go back now. If one reporter had found her out on this island, Charlotte was sure there would soon be more.
She saw two figures on the dock and froze. Then she realized it was just a father and son, about to go fishing.
She hurried down into the cabin anyway, afraid to be spotted. She sat on the bunk with her knees pulled to her chest and pushed open the little round porthole.
She wasn’t sure what to do next. She could just call Judy and apologize for running out on them. She could say she was trying to duck a particularly annoying reporter, without giving any more details. Brad and Mike would be livid—another delay, more money wasted. Still, it was a short scene they were supposed to be shooting, and she was the only actor in it. She would find a way to make it up to them, pay them back if necessary. She pulled out her phone again. But she couldn’t hit Judy’s number.
It was so nice on the boat, so peaceful. The solitude and quiet were a balm to her soul.
This is what I really need right now. Just a few minutes of peace and quiet and complete solitude so I can figure this out.
Somehow, they’ll have to understand.
Chapter Eleven
CHARLOTTE? What are you doing here?”
Charlotte opened her eyes to find Colin standing over her, looking at her as if she’d dropped out of the sky. She’d gotten so comfortable curled up on the bench seat that she had fallen asleep, the gentle waves rocking the boat side to side, and the warm sunlight on her face. Was he angry? She didn’t think so. More like shocked. Her mouth felt so dry, she could hardly speak.
“I’m sorry … I needed to get away from everyone. I didn’t know where to go … There was a reporter at the inn. I didn’t want to talk to him …” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to tell him what the reporter was after, and hoped he wouldn’t ask.
“A reporter? Aren’t you used to that?”
“He’s from a really awful show. All they do is dig up dirt on people. My sister called this morning and said two other reporters had been bothering my family last night. So they must be working on a story about me. Something dreadful, I’m sure.”
He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at her. “I see,” was all he said, and she wondered if he did.
Then something in his gaze softened as he watched her sit up and smooth her hair off her face, and it made her feel a spark of hope. She looked up at him. “Did you get my messages yesterday or last night?”
“I didn’t have my phone with me yesterday. I forgot it at home. I saw the messages when I got back.”
She wondered if he’d gone out last night and where—and with whom. But she didn’t dare ask.
“Were you going to answer me?” she asked quietly.
“I didn’t know if I should. I didn’t know if it would make any difference.”
“Oh.” Charlotte didn’t know what to say to that. Did he mean he didn’t care about her anymore? She suddenly felt very awkward, as if she had totally misread him.
“Listen, I’m sorry I just barged in here. That wasn’t right. I sort of lost my head. I can go now. It’s all right—”
“You don’t have to go. I didn’t mean that.” He still seemed wary of her, but at least he didn’t want her to leave. He looked around, seeming self-conscious. “You want some tea? I could do with a cup.”
“Okay, thanks,” she said. She watched him walk over to the galley and fill the small pot, then set it on a burner.
He turned and faced her, his arms crossed over his chest. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I went down the back staircase and snuck out of the inn. The reporter was at the front door, trying to get past Liza. I walked over the meadow at the farm next door and went out onto the road. Then I wandered down here … for some odd reason,” she added, watching to see if he had any reaction to that.
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